


The Life of a High Functioning Sociopath and His Woman

by Invincible_Voldemort



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Adlock, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Friendship, Romance, Sherlock's alone and bored, Valentine's Day, Where the hell is John?, Which is a dangerous combination
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-27
Updated: 2020-04-27
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:41:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23877106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Invincible_Voldemort/pseuds/Invincible_Voldemort
Summary: Sherlock has returned 2 years after the Reichenbach Fall to Baker Street. He finds that John is occupied with a new companion in his life, Mary. Receiving a text a one day from a certain Woman from his past, Sherlock receives more than he imagined for Valentine's Day. Set after 'The Empty Hearse.' Adlock.
Relationships: Irene Adler/Sherlock Holmes, Mary Morstan/John Watson
Comments: 1
Kudos: 39





	The Life of a High Functioning Sociopath and His Woman

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published February 14th, 2014. 
> 
> I'm a staunch Adlock supporter. I just love the complex dynamic between the two. They're so great together. Unfortunately, there aren't enough Adlock stories in the fandom. So, I hope to contribute and compensate for that.

Sherlock flopped down unceremoniously on his sofa with his old phone in his hand, glancing at the clock on the mantlepiece. He was sporting his regular sleep wear, a long robe with a comfortable pair of pyjamas. The colour was fading from constant use, and the cycles it had gone through in the washing machine.

His iPhone sat in a precarious position in one of the pockets of the long robe, threatening to fall out as its owner lounged lazily. In his hand, Sherlock had his old Blackberry, the phone used before the fall.

Call it sentimentality, but Sherlock had been in an inexplicable frenzy all day. John had walked in earlier that morning to find his former flatmate rummaging through drawers, wildly throwing out their contents. Without even glancing up to see who it was, Sherlock had started talking:

_"John, John, where is it? Where the hell is it?"_

_"Sherlock, what on earth are you going on about now?" John had replied._

_"The phone, the phone…The damn phone. I know you know where it is."_

_"What phone?" John was genuinely confused. Did he mean the phone from 'The Study in Pink' or perhaps Irene's… Before he could answer however, Sherlock continued, "Mycroft told me you kept it. After the fall."_

_"Sherlock, still lost here. Whose phone are you talking about?"_

_Sherlock stopped his rummaging to turn around and scowl at his former flatmate._

_"Are you serious right now? God, you're serious. That blank expression on your face. Honestly, is your brain that slow to keep up with this conversation. Pity. My phone, John! Mine."_

_John was even more confused than ever, "Your phone? Why the hell would I have that? Check your pocket for god's sake."_

_"No, no, no. Not my current one. The one before the fall. That was the one I called you with before I jumped. I had tossed it to the side. I contact Mycroft this morning and he rambled on about you keeping it after the investigation of my alleged suicide for some sentimental reason or another."_

_"Oh."_

_"Yes, now ring a bell? Where have you kept it?" Sherlock put his hand out expectantly as though he expected John to brandish it out in front of him immediately._

_"I haven't got it."_

_"Pardon me?"_

_"Look, why is it so important?"_

_"John, please," Sherlock pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation, "If you will just help me here."_

_"It's in that old trunk. After you left, I…" John cleared his throat. "I kept a few mementos in a trunk. It's under your bed. I was…"_

_Sherlock had tuned John out before he finished, immediately proceeding to the location mentioned. He grinned triumphantly before coughing from the accumulated dust. He quickly pulled out the chest and began taking out the items in the neatly organised trunk. Hidden at the bottom was his old phone._

_"Alright then, I was going to tell you…"_

_"Leave."_

_"What?"_

_"Leave. Go. Move. Get out. Farewell. Ciao. Adios. Adieu. How many languages do I need to ask you in? I have important matters to attend to, John. Go play princess, have a tea party or whatever you do with Mary."_

_"Excuse me?! You can't just ask me to leave like that. I came here for a reason, you know."_

_"Well, hurry up then. Haven't got all day."_

_"Right, uh, today's Valentine's Day. Mary and I are going out to dinner."_

_"This concerns me how?"_

_"I just wanted to inform you that we will be quiet busy and would not care for you to butt in during the middle for some case or another."_

_"Wouldn't dream of it."_

_"Seriously Sherlock, I mean it. I'm turning my phone off."_

_"You came here to tell me that?" Sherlock asked with a smirk. "Could have just texted me."_

_"You're a real son of a b— "_

_"John," a voice called from downstairs, Mrs Hudson, "Mary's waiting here with a taxi. She says you're going to miss the dinner reservations if you don't hurry."_

_"Sherlock, just don't do anything stupid."_

John had left resentfully as Sherlock slammed the door behind them. Relieved at last, he had quickly changed into more comfortable clothes.

Ah Valentine's Day! What a waste of time for romantic fools like John. Sentiment was a detriment. Sherlock had his moments. Yes, he admitted he was a human and therefore was errant occasionally. But honestly, a celebration to declare undying love to someone who one had been seeing everyday was rather ridiculous.

If anything, it was just expensive, worthless, and entirely too lavish. It was similar to John's upcoming marriage. He insisted on the day being big, but it was no different than any other day. Love, nothing more than a chemical defect that eventually went away.

Back to the mobile phone. It was inexplicable why he had wanted it. He had a suspicion, but his mind and heart seemed to disagree on the answer. The Blackberry rested heavily in his hand. It had been two years after all. Two whole years since he had held the phone. He had gone through hell, literally, and come back, and here it was, still unchanged.

A slight tremor came over his hand as his heart won the battle against the brain. There was a reason for the phone. Quite an obvious one. Oh how fate played him like this on Valentine's day of all days. The irony disgusted Sherlock.

He scrolled through the contents of the phone as his eyes lingered on one contact, The Woman. It seemed to be eons before he did anything. He clicked on the name, the screen changing to his old messages:

_I'm not hungry, let's have dinner. -IA_

_Bored in a hotel. Join me. Let's have dinner. -IA_

_John's blog is HILARIOUS. I think he likes you more than I do. Let's have dinner. -IA_

_I can see Tower Bridge and the moon from my room. Work out where I am and join me.-IA_

_I saw you in the street today. You didn't see me. -IA_

_You do know that hat actually suits you, don't you? -IA_

_Oh for God's sake. Let's have dinner. -IA_

_I like your funny hat. -IA_

_I'm in Egypt talking to an idiot. Get on a plane, let's have dinner. -IA_

_You looked sexy on Crimewatch. -IA_

_Even you have got to eat. Let's have dinner. -IA_

_BBC1 right now. You'll laugh. -IA_

_I'm thinking of sending you a Christmas present. -IA_

_Mantlepiece. -IA_

_I'm not dead. Let's have dinner. -IA_

_Happy New Year. –SH_

_Goodbye Mr Holmes. –IA_

His fingers hovered over the keyboard, hesitant to type anything. What if this wasn't her mobile number any longer? No, that couldn't possibly be it, not after their last meeting in Karachi.

Where was she now? He wouldn't dare ask Mycroft. Despite being the British government, his brother was still in the dark regarding the Irene Adler issue, and that's the way Sherlock hoped it would stay. He kept scrolling through the messages as though the more he looked, the more clues he could find to her current whereabouts.

The clock continued ticking as Sherlock soon lost count of how many hours he had spent on the sofa. Fate was just mocking him today. The great consulting detective Sherlock Holmes back from the dead, only to be alone on the one day that the entirety of the world spent with their partner.

His mood fluctuated violently in boredom as he grabbed his iPhone. He considered dialling up John. But something in the back of his mind discouraged him from doing so. No matter. John would prove to be a poor companion anyway on this day. Besides, he'd probably make a comment of people thinking they were gay. Always worried about appearances.

He could call Gavin…no, Graham…Giovanni…Garrett…Whatever–the-hell-his-name is Lestrade. Perhaps he had a case? He always had a case considering the Scotland Yard's piss poor skills. He vetoed this idea as well, sensing that perhaps the relationship with Lestrade's wife was yet to be ameliorated. He had no doubt that Lestrade would be in a foul mood this day.

Then, there was Molly. Sweet, old Molly. He was quite certain that a simple call from him would get Molly away from her date with Tom. Yes, so she was engaged, but that man appeared to have everything short of a backbone. He wouldn't dare refuse her. But no, why bother them. He wasn't in the mood to see Molly's pitifully attentive face as she tended to his needs.

There was only one person who could understand him at the moment. But for all he knew, she could be dead.

Sherlock sprung up from his seat, walked over the table and to the mantlepiece where he kept his gun. He took a few shots at the wall. He was somewhat surprised to not hear Mrs Hudson's shouts of disapproval. Oh for god's sake, did the old lady have a date this afternoon too?

He paced back and forth, casting weary glances at his old phone. He was mid-step on his forty-seventh pace when it happened, the all too familiar sound of his phone. It was as though their minds were linked that night. He quickly glanced at the message on his screen.

Sherlock smiled; he could hear his heart thump faster than regular. He quickly donned his form-fitting purple shirt and his regular black slacks. He threw on the characteristic dark trench coat while securing his blue scarf around his neck.

Just as he was about to shut the door, he paused momentarily. He re-entered the flat, glancing at his coat rack. And there it was; staring back at him was the deerstalker hat. He grinned as he grabbed it, placing it on his head, collar up as he exited the building. The seductive sound of the old text tone rang in his head.

_I hear you're back in town. So am I. Happy Valentine's Day, Mr Holmes. –IA_

_Let's have dinner. -SH_


End file.
